A Man Possessed (Solo)
Nov 17, 2015 17:40:30 GMT -6
Post by Elias on Nov 17, 2015 17:40:30 GMT -6
Ugh. What was that monster staring back at him? He thought he looked rough, but this was a step beyond that. His skin was pale and gaunt, dark circles hung underneath his eyes and desperately clung on, not to mention his face looked dirty and unwashed. Everytime he would blink, he'd open his eyes and be surprised again. It wasn't how he normally saw his self. His green (ugh) eyes looked tired and bloodshot, veins of red intruding on the whites in a web shape. Like he hadn't slept in days, no weeks. How did he manage to even be awake now? It was a wonder.
His hair was, as Elias had thought, gross. Greasy looking, dirty, grime clung to it in thick lumps. Hat hair was the least of his worries really, not to mention it was starting to get really long. Longer then usual, it was hanging to his shoulder by this point. Past the point of shaggy. The natural red color was marred into a dirty looking brown from the dirt and general uncleanliness. He had more hair then he thought he would, and not only on his head. On his face was a beard. He noticed it before when he woke up, but it was much thicker then he thought it'd be. He didn't even know he could grow a beard like that, he shaved it basically every day. Well he did. Apparently he sort of forgot for a few weeks.
He looked like a hobo, plain and simple. A starving hobo at that. A starving hobo who didn't sleep. A starving hobo who didn't sleep with an opium problem.
You see, until this point Elias had assumed he had only been walking for a day to two. A week, tops, but... how long has it been? How long has he mindlessly wandered? Looking at himself he could only guess it's been several weeks, maybe two, even three. He knew that traveling on foot took a while, but that seemed absurd. And the worst part was that he couldn't remember any of it. That's what worried him the most. He felt hungry, he felt tired, and more then all he felt like he should leave.
He was taken aback by it all, sort of stumbling backwards until he reached the edge of the bed. He sat and just stared at his reflection for a while. It was him, for sure, but he didn't even recognize himself. He sat the mirror down on the sheets, he didn't want to look at it anymore. Not right now.
He sat there for a few minutes, silent. He could hear the sounds of a person moving in the distance, the whistling of the teapot had since stopped but the sound of ruffling continued. Isaac must still be looking for those clothes. Usually Elias would be picky about what he wore, but with how he looked like now a burlap sack would be preferable. His clothes were dark, ripped, dirt and grime pressed into their fibers, sweat stains in many unattractive place, blood stains that were nigh-impossible to see against the red. You could always tell though, the sort of sickly sticky spots left when blood soaked into cloth.
He thought for a moment. Eager to disinfect his whole hobo-esque body. Of course he'd need a tub or something, maybe Isaac had one? He also needed his knife... hrm.
Isaac came in with a bundle of cloth, brown mostly but he saw a speck of red in it. Elias felt like he should be glad to see him, but really he was sort of embarrassed now that he realized just how rough he looked. Also Isaac is the biggest liar ever. "So?" Isaac said, almost as if he was expecting something.
"You said my hair looked fine. You liar." Elias grumbled.
"Well I wasn't going to say 'you look like you fell face first into a mud puddle' to a person who seems like he's about to put himself into a coma freaking out about everything." Isaac crossed his arms and gave Elias a sort of stare.
"Liar." Isaac smirked, what was so funny?
"Fine. Do you need anything else?"
"A bath would be nice."
"What do I look like? A noble? I don't have a bath I just keep in the back." No of course not. Still couldn't hurt to hope.
"Well do you at least have a tub?"
"For washing clothes, yeah." He shrugged.
"Well that's better then nothing." Isaac probably just went into town to bathe, or used the river, or something that peasants usually did. However Elias was on the road often enough he's picked up a few tricks here and there. He pushed himself off the bed and began to wobble back into the other room. "Where are you going?"
"To get my knife, I need to shave." Elias replied with a grunt. "Could you get that tub? And maybe not come in here?" Ugh, why wasn't there a door? He'd have to retreat into a corner just so he couldn't be see from the other room.
"I... I guess. I'll be back. I keep it in my shed." Elias walked by him, back to his little junkpile in the other room. Why did he keep Elias' stuff in the other room anyways? So inconvenient. Maybe Isaac was going through his things? Not like that mattered, he didn't keep anything super secret anyways. He didn't keep a diary, just his journal and that was more what happened and his experiences with strange magic and monsters. Like the Tavros in Sacae, entries made on Hargus while in the city of heroes (he wasn't sure he had a chance to note what happened after, kind of a blur), the doomwolves, zombies, his adventures in Ostia, Valorian and his giving Elias the staff, notes on the staff itself, his result with the Gaea spell, all that junk. Nothing personal, it was all objective facts and theories really.
He picked up the blue tome, fimbulvetr eh? That might be useful. He also grabbed his silver knife, mostly used to skin monster hides, but it was also is quite sharp. He didn't use it much, so it hadn't had a chance to dull just yet. That was going to change. Maybe. He wasn't sure, he hadn't done this before. Never really let it go this far. Still how hard could it be? He's seen 'tough guys' use knives to shave and they were almost universally simpletons.
His hair was, as Elias had thought, gross. Greasy looking, dirty, grime clung to it in thick lumps. Hat hair was the least of his worries really, not to mention it was starting to get really long. Longer then usual, it was hanging to his shoulder by this point. Past the point of shaggy. The natural red color was marred into a dirty looking brown from the dirt and general uncleanliness. He had more hair then he thought he would, and not only on his head. On his face was a beard. He noticed it before when he woke up, but it was much thicker then he thought it'd be. He didn't even know he could grow a beard like that, he shaved it basically every day. Well he did. Apparently he sort of forgot for a few weeks.
He looked like a hobo, plain and simple. A starving hobo at that. A starving hobo who didn't sleep. A starving hobo who didn't sleep with an opium problem.
You see, until this point Elias had assumed he had only been walking for a day to two. A week, tops, but... how long has it been? How long has he mindlessly wandered? Looking at himself he could only guess it's been several weeks, maybe two, even three. He knew that traveling on foot took a while, but that seemed absurd. And the worst part was that he couldn't remember any of it. That's what worried him the most. He felt hungry, he felt tired, and more then all he felt like he should leave.
He was taken aback by it all, sort of stumbling backwards until he reached the edge of the bed. He sat and just stared at his reflection for a while. It was him, for sure, but he didn't even recognize himself. He sat the mirror down on the sheets, he didn't want to look at it anymore. Not right now.
He sat there for a few minutes, silent. He could hear the sounds of a person moving in the distance, the whistling of the teapot had since stopped but the sound of ruffling continued. Isaac must still be looking for those clothes. Usually Elias would be picky about what he wore, but with how he looked like now a burlap sack would be preferable. His clothes were dark, ripped, dirt and grime pressed into their fibers, sweat stains in many unattractive place, blood stains that were nigh-impossible to see against the red. You could always tell though, the sort of sickly sticky spots left when blood soaked into cloth.
He thought for a moment. Eager to disinfect his whole hobo-esque body. Of course he'd need a tub or something, maybe Isaac had one? He also needed his knife... hrm.
Isaac came in with a bundle of cloth, brown mostly but he saw a speck of red in it. Elias felt like he should be glad to see him, but really he was sort of embarrassed now that he realized just how rough he looked. Also Isaac is the biggest liar ever. "So?" Isaac said, almost as if he was expecting something.
"You said my hair looked fine. You liar." Elias grumbled.
"Well I wasn't going to say 'you look like you fell face first into a mud puddle' to a person who seems like he's about to put himself into a coma freaking out about everything." Isaac crossed his arms and gave Elias a sort of stare.
"Liar." Isaac smirked, what was so funny?
"Fine. Do you need anything else?"
"A bath would be nice."
"What do I look like? A noble? I don't have a bath I just keep in the back." No of course not. Still couldn't hurt to hope.
"Well do you at least have a tub?"
"For washing clothes, yeah." He shrugged.
"Well that's better then nothing." Isaac probably just went into town to bathe, or used the river, or something that peasants usually did. However Elias was on the road often enough he's picked up a few tricks here and there. He pushed himself off the bed and began to wobble back into the other room. "Where are you going?"
"To get my knife, I need to shave." Elias replied with a grunt. "Could you get that tub? And maybe not come in here?" Ugh, why wasn't there a door? He'd have to retreat into a corner just so he couldn't be see from the other room.
"I... I guess. I'll be back. I keep it in my shed." Elias walked by him, back to his little junkpile in the other room. Why did he keep Elias' stuff in the other room anyways? So inconvenient. Maybe Isaac was going through his things? Not like that mattered, he didn't keep anything super secret anyways. He didn't keep a diary, just his journal and that was more what happened and his experiences with strange magic and monsters. Like the Tavros in Sacae, entries made on Hargus while in the city of heroes (he wasn't sure he had a chance to note what happened after, kind of a blur), the doomwolves, zombies, his adventures in Ostia, Valorian and his giving Elias the staff, notes on the staff itself, his result with the Gaea spell, all that junk. Nothing personal, it was all objective facts and theories really.
He picked up the blue tome, fimbulvetr eh? That might be useful. He also grabbed his silver knife, mostly used to skin monster hides, but it was also is quite sharp. He didn't use it much, so it hadn't had a chance to dull just yet. That was going to change. Maybe. He wasn't sure, he hadn't done this before. Never really let it go this far. Still how hard could it be? He's seen 'tough guys' use knives to shave and they were almost universally simpletons.